conflict, elizabeth
Why is every choice a bad one?
To move or stay,
to tell or lie.
I stay, I wait, I do not argue.
The problem grows.
Yet to protest, to pick, to anger
will only drive him away.
To, tell,
I must deal with worried glances,
unbearable sympathy, but to refrain -
then worry in battery acid
in my throat, my stomach.
To love or leave, either way I ache.
But either way, I choose by not choosing,
I drown by staying, scream by moving.
I have no choice but to choose.
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